The Story From the Vicomte de Chagny's POV
by ZodiAqua
Summary: This is a total rewrite of the play in Raoul's point of view. For all you Raoul haters out there, read this, just maybe you'll see that Raoul was just as cursed as Erik. Just as cursed with the love of Miss Christine Daae.


Many years have passed since the incident and I find myself in a loop hole, reminding me of a past I visited often in my dreams. She said it would be here and I had come to retrieve it for her. Why she would like to be reminded of a time when both our lives were at stake, I did not ask. I had come obediently to collect the item and leave.

"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier mâche musical box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre still in working order," the auctioneer held the box in one hand and wound it with another to reveal a melody I remember quite well, even after these years. Its tune mocked me unmercifully, yet this is what I was sent to reclaim.

"May I start the bidding at 20 francs? 15 then? 15 I am bid. 20 sir thank you. 20, 25 thank you madam," the auctioneer called out to the crowd as faceless bidders raised their numbers. I lifted my number in response.

"30? Selling at 30 then, once, twice, sold to the Vicomte de Chagny. Thank you sir," the second the auctioneer handed the box to me, I began to study it carefully. 

"A collector's piece indeed…every detail exactly as she said…she often spoke of you, my friend…your velvet lining and your figurine of lead…will you still play, when all the rest of us are dead?" I murmured to the box, caressing its soiled surface with one bent finger. I am almost afraid of what would happen if I laid even a hair upon it. As said earlier by the auctioneer, the box was found in its underground resting place under the theatre, not to be disturbed for all eternity. Would he come back for it? Could he see it was gone from his chambers? I placed the box as though it was Pandora's very own underneath my chair to keep from the temptation of grinding it with my heel until it was only fine dust. But, by destroying his property, I would probably release the evil in his soul to haunt me forever. Similar to Pandora's Box in that aspect which is why I made the reference.

The nightmare occurred long ago, when it was nearly the turn of the 18th century. Paris was the home to the arts and the economy was booming. It was the age of majesty, magic, discovery, enlightenment, and love. Love above all. In fact, if it weren't for the love of a woman and a promise her father made her, it may not have happened. Or, if it weren't for me either, he would probably not have the same reputation he wears around his shoulders today. Murderer. Monster. The devil himself with eyes of fire and face of a skeleton, yellow skin stretched over his skull, like too tight dishwashing gloves.

I lean back in my too comfortable chair and stroked my newly shaven chin deep in thought. The auctioneer's voice began to drown out as I had a flashback to those days before I knew what I know now and how it reflected upon my face, deepening the lines on my once young features. If you care for the story of the infamous Phantom of the Opera who haunted the Le Palais Garnier Theatre in Paris, I'll tell you what I know, what I heard, what I saw. I will tell you the tale from my eyes. From the eyes of the Vicomte de Chagny. 

The day I first heard her voice, I will never forget. I was seated in the theatre, nearly 20 years younger, still untouched with the knowledge of darkness. I was over seeing the rehearsals for _Hannibal _by Chalumeau with Carlotta Giudicelli, the theatre's head soprano playing Elissa, the Queen of Carthage and Ubaldo Piangi playing the lead. Carlotta had a voice as thin as a string and a vainly beautiful face to match. She had begun to sing in Act 3: 

_"Think of me,_

Think of me fondly,

When we've said goodbye.

Remember me once in a while-

Please promise me you'll try.

When you find that,

Once again,

You long to take your heart…"

When suddenly, there was a scream and the backdrop crashed to the floor, separating the diva from the rest of the cast and crew. 

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!" the ballet girls whispered in unison. I laughed at the time. I did not believe it then and dismissed the idea foolishly. That ignorance cost me dearly later on.

"Cara! Cara! Are you hurt?" Piangi rushed to her and checked for injuries. He carefully lifted her fragile body but Carlotta immediately pulled herself from Piangi's grasp and yelled that she would not return to the theatre until these "accidents" were put to a stop. That presented a problem since there was a sold out show that very night. Andre and Firmin, the new owners of the theatre knew not what to do. There was no understudy for Carlotta.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," a young ballerina by the name of Meg I believe suggested.

I had known Miss Daae from childhood. Her father was an amazing violinist that almost everyone heard about, god rest his soul. His daughter though, ashamed I am not, had about as much melody as a crow. Firmin took the suggestion as I would have.

"The chorus girl?" he spat, his voice blunt.

"Let her sing for you, Monsieur, she has been well taught," Madam Giry, a senior performer assured the owner, resting her arm on a cane. Firmin looked at as he bit his lip.

"From the beginning of the aria then, mam'selle."

The second Christine stepped up to the song, the music claimed her. Her voice as sweet and smooth as honey and golden as the sun took flight to each ear in the room, making everyone look at her in shock as she poured her very soul into the essence of the song.

__

"Recall those days,  
Look back on all those times,

Think of all the things,

We'll never do-

There will never be a day, 

When I won't think of you …"

I jumped up from my chair and cheered with the rest of them

"Can it be? Can it be Christine? Bravo! What a change! You're really not a bit the gawkish girl hat once you were," I raise my glass in a toast. "She may not remember me, but I remember her…"

I did not know it then, but the second her voice reached me, she claimed me like the music claimed her. Forever I will be in the torment of her song echoing in my mind. I fell in love with her that day and because of that, the Phantom proved to me himself, that he way very much real.

As I continue with the story, I must tell you that since I was not present in most of the story, that I gather the facts from Christine, who told me everything when it was over. 

After her performance, Miss Daae went to her room to retire. Her tutor was very firm about matters that tired her. She was almost about to open her door when she heard a voice.

_"Bravi, Bravi, Bravissimo..."_

Christine turned around in fear and was surprised to find herself face to face with Meg.

"Where in the world have you been hiding?" Meg wanted to know. "Really you were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret! Who is this new tutor?" 

Christine opened the door and invited Meg into the room. She did not want to talk about her angel. After she closed the door, Christine sat down on a sofa and inspected her fingernails as a distraction. 

"Father once spoke of an angel…I use to dream that he'd appear," Christine told her quietly. "Now as I sing, I can sense him…and I know he's here." She glanced around the room in fear, but also some sort of incredulous respect. "Here in this room, he calls me softly…somewhere inside…hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me… he- the unseen genius…"

"Christine you must have been dreaming," Meg shifted in her chair uneasily. "Stories like this can't come true," she got up to reach Christine. "Christine you're talking in riddles and it's not like you!"

Christine completely ignored her as she began to yell in praise. "Angel of Music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory!" 

Meg turned from her friend's ramblings and whispered, "Who is this angel?" Christine was so ecstatic that Meg was afraid to be near her.

"Angel of Music! Hide no longer! Secret and strange angel…" Christine shriveled into a corner were she began to hush as she sank lower and lower. "He's with me, even now…"

Meg rushed to Christine and reached for her hand but dropped it in surprise. "Your hands are cold…"

"All around me," Christine continued oblivious of Meg's presence.

"Your face, Christine, its white…" Meg touched her friends face in worry.

Christine finally turned to Meg. "It frightens me…"

"Don't be frightened."

Neither of them said anything until Madam Giry entered the room.

"Meg Giry. Are you a dancer? Then come and practice," Meg was seized by her mother and was lead out of the room. Christine gulped, suddenly afraid of what happened and closed the door.

I had just finished having champagne with the owners to celebrate Christine's success when I went to her room. I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. What would I say to her? I was so nervous. She was not the little girl from long ago any more. As my thoughts had gone astray, Christine opened the door to a crack and looked at me.

"Christine, where is your scarf?" I teased her, remembering how I swam after it when she dropped it in the water. She did not know what to make of me or my absurd ramblings. A tiny frown appeared between her brows.

"Monsieur?"

"You can't have lost it. After all the trouble I took. I was 14 and soaked to the skin…" as I spoke, a small smile began to form on her face, growing larger by the second. 

"Because you had to run into the sea to fetch my scarf. Oh Raoul. So it is you," Christine opened the door wide and held me in a sweet embrace that I would have liked to be in forever.

"Christine," I smiled warmly at her, but instead of a smile in return, Christine glanced around the room worriedly and closed the door with both hands, turning the knob so the door clicked into place. If I had known at the time what she was afraid of, I would have understood. But, I didn't and began to worry.

She sat down at the table and invited me to the other seat. I sank into the chair and began to talk of the old times immediately. That was something we shared. From picnics in the attic to Mr. Daae playing the violin to stories of Little Lotte, a character her father made up based on Christine, our childhoods unfolded like a flower after eternities of rain. Slow and steady, first you see just the form of the flower, but as you progress, you begin to see little details that prove to be quite important to the whole flower. A bent petal, a crisp leaf, it makes the flower the flower. 

"'What I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head,'" Christine recited our story, her eyes bright.

"'…the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!'" I repeated. I held her fingers gently and looked deep in her eyes. Shadows crept around her once innocent irises. She was hiding something. 

"Christine…" I started, grasping her fingers tightly. She turned her head and tried to pull her hand from me but I only gripped harder.

"Raoul…please…"Christine begged, eyes firmly locked to the wall. She didn't even want to look at me. 

"Tell me!"

She turned her chair to face me. "Father said 'When I'm in heaven child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.' Well, father is dead, Raoul, and I _have_ been visited by the Angel of Music." Christine finally fixed her eyes on mine, searching for a reaction.

If I could go back in time, and relive that moment, I would hold her in my arms, where he couldn't get her and make her promise she would never return to him. The fool I was, I didn't press the matter further. I just sighed in relief. The issue of this "Angel" wasn't essential until it was too late, and he already seduced her into the Music of the Night. 

"No doubt about it- And now we'll go to supper!" I got up and started to search for my things. 

"No, Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict."

I looked at her strangely and almost laughed. "I shan't keep you up late!"

"No, Raoul…" she got up as well, protesting. She grabbed my wrist and dug her fingernails deep into my skin. But I paid no mind to her. I was thinking ahead, no time for the present. We'd go to the fanciest restaurant and have the most expensive items on the menu. Maybe after that, we would walk down Paris in the moonlight and…and… 

"_You_ must change, _I_ must get my hat. Two minutes- Little Lotte," I kissed her cheek in farewell, but I didn't wait for an answer. I was too busy thinking how handsome I would be in my new silk tuxedo and if I would appear handsome in her eyes. Would she wear anything special? I thought. I had an immediate mental picture of the both of us in our best wear, the envy of everyone. I quickly opened the door and left to my room as fast as I could.

"Raoul!" she tried to protest again, but I was long gone. Christine picked up her hand mirror form the table. She studied herself as she twirled a long brown stand around her finger. Christine blinked and looked at the mirror again. She almost saw a reflection of her younger self, but slammed down the mirror before she could see any more. "Things have changed, Raoul."

"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion, basking in your glory!" a bodiless voice called from what seemed like behind her dressing room mirror. "Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"

Christine turned to her mirror spellbound. "Angel! I hear you! Speak- I listen…stay by my side, guide me!" She fell to the floor and begged. "Angel, my soul was weak- forgive me… enter at last, Master!"

The voice immediately became gentle and kind, almost pleased. "Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide! Look at your face in the mirror- I am there inside!" 

As promised, the figure of the "Angel" became clearer and clearer behind the mirror. He held out his hand to her, luring her to his realm of everlasting darkness.

Christine hesitated, but continued to praise him. "Angel of Music! Guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music! Hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel…" 

"I am your angel. Come to me: Angel of Music…" his voice faded, but he couldn't have talked any stronger. Christine got up slowly, almost as if she was under a spell, and walked towards the glowing shimmering glass. 

At the same time, I had returned from my room and was on my way to retrieve Christine. My head was full of thoughts, what would happen, what she would say, how she would look. Imagine my surprise when I heard a male voice tempting her in the room, calling himself her angel. My heart broke in two. I turned the knob. It was locked.

"Whose is that voice?" I asked out loud, rattling the handle again and again. "Who _is_ that in there?"

Back in the room, the mirror opened, and the "Angel" stood in white light, his hand still awaiting hers. He wore a long black cloak over fashionable opera wear. A red rose, as deep as blood rested in his breast pocket. The only thing unusual about this man was that he wore a plain white mask over his face, hiding the horror within. To Christine, it did not matter. He was her angel. She walked across the room, no longer afraid, and put her tiny hand in his, but gasped. His touch was cold. 

"I am your Angel of Music…" he coaxed her. "Come to me: Angel of Music…"

Christine relaxed and allowed him to take her under the theatre, to his chambers. She disappeared into the mirror and it closed immediately behind her. Simultaneously, the door opened, and I was granted admittance into the room. They were gone. Christine and the Angel.

"Christine! Angel!" I moaned, falling to my knees. She was gone, with her Angel. Somewhere I couldn't follow them to. I admitted defeat and returned to my chambers. 

To this day, Christine has not told me of where she went when the Phantom took her away that day. When I ask her, her eyes would flicker from side to side and her hands would tighten and she would turn from me. All this causes me to be very curious and _very_ jealous, but, I let her slip away from the question more than I would like to. What I do remember is what happened while she was gone. Chaos. 

I woke up the next morning to find a note pinned to my pillow. It read:

__

Do not fear for Miss Daae, the Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.

Signed,

Andre

Firmin

I stared at the document stupidly. Make no attempt to see her again? This man, this _Angel_, is not fitted for lessons in the musical arts. Not at all. I got up quickly, washed and dressed. Then I went to the manager's office. They would most defiantly receive a piece of my mind, I remember thinking.

When I reached the door, I knocked, no pounded my fist against it. Andre opened the door, looking much worn. He held a newspaper and Firmin stood behind him. They appeared to have been talking about something quite important.

"Vicomte?" Firmin asked surprised by my face which was in all likenesses to a very purple pit bull that has been pushed into a pool.

__

"Where is she?" I demanded, waving the note in his face.

"You mean Carlotta?" Andre asked, confused.

"I mean Miss Daae- where is she?" I began to yell in frustration. 

Firmin and Andre exchanged baffled expressions.

"Well, how would we know?" Firmin asked, clearly getting annoyed.

"I want an answer- I take it that you sent me this note?" I was getting just as annoyed.

"What's all this nonsense?" Firmin frowned his brow in anger, meeting me head on.

Andre stepped in between of us and tried to cool our anger. "Of course not."

"Don't look at us."

"She's not with you then?" I asked, my voice softening. Someone or something was trying to stop me from seeing Christine. And, I was going to fight to the death.

"Of course not!" Firmin yelled again. "I already told you that!"

"We're in the dark…" Andre commented sympathetically, patting my shoulder.

I pull from him. "Monsieur, don't argue- Isn't this the letter you wrote?" 

Firmin plucked the note from my shaking hand. After a couple of seconds, he passed it to Andre, not looking at me. When Andre read it he looked mystified and returned to me the note. 

I pointed my finger to Andre and then Firmin. "If you didn't write it, who did?"

Andre grasped my shoulder and led me to into the office. 

"How about you get some wine and sit down for awhile."

I nodded. I was a beaten man. I needed to think things over. Whoever did this was very cunning. Creating a wild goose chase with that note as he bought more time for what other schemes he had planned. 

As soon as Andre closed the door, it was swung open. Carlotta stood at the entrance, breathing loudly. 

"Where is he?" she demanded.

Andre turned and locked eyes with her. He smiled and opened his arms. "Ah, welcome back!"

Carlotta side stepped him and started shrieking with that voice of hers. "Your precious patron- where is he?"

I leaned over in my chair while I held my forehead with one hand and clutched a full wine cup with the other. I took a sip and winced. I usually don't drink anything strong. "What is it now?" 

"I have your letter," Carlotta pointed her finger accusingly at me as her eyes burned fire. "A letter which I rather resent!"

"And did you send it?" Firmin turned to face me, his expression telling me he had enough for one day.

"Of course not!" I sputtered after another sip. Letter? I didn't write a letter.

Firmin massaged his forehead and looked at the wine bottle next to mine. He poured himself a glass and sat down on desk. 

"As if he would!" Andre protected me.

Carlotta's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. "You didn't send it?"

"Of course not!" I repeated. I was getting a headache.

Firmin slammed his glass against the wood of the table. "What's going on…?"

She came closer to me and waved the parchment across my face. "You dare to tell me that this is not the letter you sent?"

I got up to my full height and yelled, "And what is it that I'm meant to have sent?"

She stopped fluttering the note and held it out to me in a refined, prim manner she did not have a second ago. I snatched the paper from her fingers and straightened it as I read it to myself:

_Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Christine Daae will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune, should you attempt to take her place._

Signed,

Vicomte de Chagny 

I looked at her. This was a perfect forgery of my handwriting. I handed it to Andre to read. As he read, I paced the floor, mumbling to myself. Who would go through so much trouble? And what were his motives? The Angel of Music seemed no longer angelic to me. This is when I began to suspect something greater than my knowledge at the time was at work. And it scared me.

The door opened again and everyone turned. It was Madam Giry accompanied by her daughter Meg who bowed her head in respect to the owners. Madam Giry had no time for the nonsense. She came to report that Christine returned. I blinked at her. Did she know anything? 

"I trust her midnight oil is well and truly burned," Firmin commented dryly after another shot of wine.

"Where precisely is she now?" Andre asked, trying to be gentle but firm at the same time.

"I thought it best that she went home…" Giry readjusted her cane.

"She needed rest," Meg glanced at her mother and finished the sentence for her.

"May I see her?" I asked her, grabbing her wrist as I begged. She looked at me sadly, like she could read my mind. She released her hand and shook her head.

"No, Monsieur, she will see no one."

Carlotta, thinking of herself as usual, interrupted.

"Will she sing? Will she sing?"

Giry reached to her coat pocket and conjured up a…NOTE. We all groaned. 

"Let me see it!" Andre, Carlotta, and I all requested in unison.

Firmin took it and read it out loud for the rest of us:

_Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theatre is to be run. You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance… _

Christine Daae has been returned to you and I am anxious her career should progress. 

In the new production of "Il Muto", you will therefore cast Carlotta as the Pageboy, and put Miss Daae in the role of the Countess.

_The role which Miss Daae plays calls for charm and appeal. _

The role of the Pageboy is silent- which makes my casting in word, ideal.

I shall be watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. 

I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,

O.G.

"Christine?" Carlotta broke the silence with distaste.

"Whatever next…?" Andre asked, shaking his head and tried to find Firmin's opinion on the matter by his expression.

"It's all a ploy to help Christine!" Carlotta shouted, turning on her heels to face me. Hard to believe, for once, Carlotta was right. It was all to help Christine. Did she have a lover? Was it this Angel I have heard so much about in the past day and a half? My heart pounded fiercely against my chest. Was she toying with my emotions? I sat down and took another drink of wine.

"This is insane…" Firmin concluded and Andre nodded in support.

"I know who sent this," Carlotta said suddenly, venom in her voice. I straightened. Did she know anything? "The Vicomte- her lover!"

"Indeed?" I asked her, sarcastically. What a disgusting woman. Now forever in the shadow of Christine, she was not use to this type of envy. She was trying to make things look good for her. "Can you believe this?" I asked the others, crossing my arms.

"Signora!" Andre protested shocked.

"This is a joke," Firmin told her.

"This changes nothing," Andre assured the prima donna.

Andre and Firmin continued to guarantee Carlotta her place in the theatre while the rest of us lay alone with our own thoughts. This all continued to surprise me with each passing moment. I took a sip of my wine. My vision began to become blurry but I cared not. It was decided that Carlotta would indeed play the lead and Christine would play the Pageboy. 

"Who scorn his word, I beware to those…" Madam Giry spoke at last, trying to warn the owners against it.

"You have reviled me!" Carlotta cried, playing the part of the damsel in distress to regain the power she once had before the world discovered Christine.

"The angel sees, the angel knows…" Giry tried again to capture our attention, but we were all too occupied with our own obstacles to realize that Giry was trying to help us with the common enemy. We, again, just didn't take the time to notice how much of a threat this "Angel" was until later. 

"Why did Christine fly from my arms?" I asked, almost weeping. If I had my normal sense, I wouldn't have thought about that. I would have paid more attention to the surrounding conversations, but I was too wrapped up in my self pity to care.

""You have rebuked me! You have replaced me!" Carlotta continued, playing deeper and deeper in agony which would sicken me if I were at all paying attention.

"Please, Signora, we beseech you!" Andre begged, talking for Firmin as well.

"This hour shall see your darkest fears…" Madam Giry talked louder but she still couldn't grab anyone's attention.

"I must see her…" I mumbled. Christine, my fair beautiful Christine. Please, don't let her fall in love with that angel. There is a human with the purest of hearts that wishes for her grace beside him. "Where did she go…?" and as I stated before, that is still a mystery to all of us except for the Phantom and Christine, each hushed to silence.

After a couple more moments of discussion, Carlotta agreed to her part almost in a sigh. That didn't fool me. Even in the sate I was in, I knew her true thoughts. She was almost beaming in arrogance. 

"Prima donna, your song shall live again!" she whispered to herself in triumph.

"Oh, fools who have flouted his demands!" Giry mumbled, tapping the handle of her cane against the desk.

"Surely he'll strike back…" Meg whispered her eyes wide in fear. Her mother nodded in agreement.

"Think, before these demands are rejected!" Giry pleaded, looking very tired. Her eyes were worn and fearful, like she had seen too much.

"…I must see these demands are rejected!" I spoke to myself. This man will not get the best of me. Did he think me a half wit? I refused to step aside and give him a clear path to Christine. Not without me dead and buried first.

"Christine must be protected!" Meg commented in terror to me. I turned away from her. I needed to find a way to out do these ridiculous happenings of the Angel from Hell and return Christine to her rightful place, with me.

"His game is over!" I yelled at Meg who drew back quickly.

"This is a game you cannot hope to win!" Giry shot back, protecting her daughter.

"And in Box Five a new game will begin…" I ignored her, as I fingered my wine glass. How should I do it? I began to imagine the look on Christine's face when she sees that I saved her. I sighed happily and took another sip from my wine glass to find that it was empty. I shrugged merrily and leaned back in my chair.

"But if his curse is on this opera, then I fear the outcome!" Meg told the owners, but they cared not for this "Angel." They persisted on showering Carlotta with praise. 

"Light up the stage with that age-old rapport!" Andre smiled graciously and patted her hand gently.

"Sing once more!" Firmin supplicated.

It was then when we all hushed and somewhere in the depths of darkness we heard a ghastly voice. 

"So it is to be war between us! If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!"

But we pretended not hear. That is the day we sealed our fate, for the worse as you are about to find out.

It was finally the day of the big performance, the theatre's and the Angel's. I went to the Managers to walk them to their seats. 

"Gentlemen, if you would care to take your seats? I shall be sitting in Box Five," I told them, pointing to the box opposite from which they were.

"Do you really think that's wise, Monsieur?" Andre questioned me, the worry exaggerated in his voice. 

"My dear Andre, there would appear to be no seats available, other than Box Five," I replied smoothly with slyness. His reign would end tonight. Or so I thought.

As the opera progressed, the theatre was nothing short of peaceful. I chuckled. Every seat sold. Hardly a disaster beyond all imagination. Who was high and mighty "Angel" now? Only a couple of seconds later I got my answer.

_"Poor fool, he doesn't know!_

Hoho, Hoho! 

If he knew the truth, he'd never go!"

Carlotta sang. Her voice regained confidence after she knew she was the center of the opera's universe. She really disgusted me. I knew she was singing with pride that she received after she pulled Christine down to regenerate herself in the eyes of the audience.

Suddenly, a voice spoke, louder and louder. As soon as everyone quieted in terror, I recognized the voice. My hands had become fists and tightened.

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" he snarled. 

"He's here: the Phantom of the Opera…" Meg called from the stage. All about us, people screamed and huddled amongst themselves, trying to find what little protection the theatre provided.

"It's him…I know it…it's him…" Christine exclaimed, her eyes becoming blank. He was controlling her somehow. I had half a mind to jump off my box and rescue her, but I needed to stay formal, especially in public eye to avoid a scandal.

Carlotta turned to Christine and hisses at her. "_Your_ part is silent, little toad!" She summoned up all the anger she had for Christine and chose that moment to explode. Perfect. Carlotta could not have picked a better time.

"A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad…" the voice asked casually after over hearing her. 

After a couple of moments of unease, Carlotta began to sing again like nothing happened.

_"Serafimo, away with this pretence!_

You cannot speak,

But kiss me in my…"

Instead of singing the next part, she croaked like a toad. She stopped singing, amazed at her outburst. But, she regained herself and continued to sing.

_"Poor fool, he makes me laugh-_

Hahahahaha!..."

Again, Carlotta croaked. But, this time she croaked more and more until she couldn't speak. Her eyes were flooded with tears and they began to spill nonstop. She whimpered and fell to the floor, consumed in sobs. Gradually, since Carlotta croaked for the first time, the "Angel" laughed. As she melted to the floor of the stage, the laughter became louder and louder and more hysterically. Then the lights of the chandelier's lights blinked on and off, on and off continuously.

"Behold!" his voice cried. "She is singing to bring down the chandelier!"

"I cannot…I cannot go on…" Carlotta managed to choke out. 

Piangi rushed to her and held her protectively in his arms. "Cara, Cara…I'm here…is all right…Come…I'm here…"

Andre and Firmin, who had abandoned their box earlier, escorted the weeping Carlotta off the stage, while Piangi tackled the terrified/amazed audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the performance will continue in ten minutes' time when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Christine Daae."

"In the mean time, ladies and gentlemen," Andre improvised after Firmin took Carlotta to her room. "We shall be giving you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera." He summoned the conductor who immediately started to play.

As the ballerinas danced, I noticed a shadow behind the drop. It made a series of threatening moves until the body of Joseph Buquet fell on the stage causing the sylvan glade to fly out. The audience immediately began to jump to their feet. 

"Raoul! Raoul!" Christine called, her arms hugged her self in protection.

I ran as fast as I could on stage and embraced her. Her thudding heart in tune with mine.

"Christine, come with me…" I started, leading her off stage but she protested.

"No…to the roof. We'll be safe there." 

I didn't give it a second thought. I grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs, the voices fading and we galloped faster. When we reached the top, we both were breathing hard.

"Why have you brought us here?" I asked.

"Don't take me back there!" she begged as she buried her face in my arms. I made her face me.

"We must return!"

"He'll kill me!"

I frowned. Christine was over reacting. I snatched her wrist and tried to drag her back down, but she squirmed. "Be still now…" my voice fought to be gentle.

"His eyes will find me there!" 

"Christine, don't say that…"

"Those eyes that burn!" her eyes clamped down tightly, like she was trying to block the painful image from her mind.

"Don't even think it…" I tried to calm her down by stroking her hair but she pulled from me.

"And if he has to kill a thousand men-…"

"Forget this waking nightmare…" I shook her but she paid no mind to me.

"The Phantom of the Opera will kill…"

Phantom? Not angel? Stories. Stupid tales. Neither of them existed. 

"This Phantom is a fable…Believe me…"

"…and kill again!" Christine continued like I said nothing.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera…" I tried again but she was sidetracked with her own thoughts and fears.

"My God, who is this man? I can't escape from him!"

"Whose is this voice you hear with every breath?" I wanted answers but she failed to comply.

"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here: inside my mind!" she pulled my shirt tightly with clammy hands as she pleaded for me to understand.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera…" If only she would listen to me, she could stop this madness. Instead, Christine looked at me in sorrow. Like I was the one who should be listening. How true it was.

"Raoul, I've been there- to his world of unending night…To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness…darkness…" she shuddered but continued. "Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face in that darkness…darkness…" Then, her voice changed. It became proud and almost praising. "But his voice, filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound… In that night there was music in my mind…And through the music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before…" she quieted. 

"What you heard was a dream and nothing more…" I whispered, but the words brought her no comfort.

"Yet in his eyes all the sadness of the world…Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore…" Christine stepped from me, ashamed. 

"Christine, Christine…" I attempted to sooth her. Finally, she was at ease. But she still clung to my arms as if she would be in danger if she let go. I smiled. She saw me as her protector against this lunacy.

"Christine…" murmured a ghostly echo of my words. She stiffened in my arms.

"What was that?" 

I cupped her cheek with one hand and tilted her face upwards until her eyes met mine.

"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you- my words will warm and calm you," I inhaled sharply. If I was waiting for the opportune moment to expose my true feelings for, it was now. "Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you…"

She smiled and replied, "Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with the talk of summertime… Say you need me with you, now and always… promise me that all you say is true- that's all I ask of you…"

I smiled and took her hand, laying it on my cheek, "Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light. You're safe: No one will find you- You're fears are far behind you…"

"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night… and you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me," she caressed my face. 

"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime… let me lead you from your solitude… Say you need me with you here, beside you... anywhere you go, let me go too- Christine that's all I ask of you…" I tightened my grip around her waist and she rest her head upon my shoulder.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime… say the word and I will follow you… Share each day with me, each night, each morning… Say you love me…" she asked, fingering my hair.

"You know I do…"

"Love me- that's all I ask of you…"

Then, for the first time, we kissed. I felt like we were the only ones truly living. Just us two in the whole world. It was sweet and salty, her tears becoming my tears as they rolled off her face.

"Anywhere you go let me go too… Love me- that's all I ask of you…" I repeated.

Christine sniffed and slowly escaped from my arms. "I must go- they'll wonder where I am… Wait for me Raoul!" 

"Christine, I love you!" I murmured in her ear, not able to say it enough.

"Order your fine horses! Be with them at the door!" 

"And soon you'll be beside me!"

"You'll guard me and you'll guide me…" she finished for me. We lingered a moment longer and then rushed to the steps to return to the theatre. Little did we know we had an eavesdropper, lurking behind a statue near us. 

"I gave you my music… made your song take wing… and now, how you've repaid me: Denied me and betrayed me…" the Angel, from now on known as the Phantom, moaned sorrowfully. " He was bound to love you when he heard you sing… Christine… Christine…"

Since we didn't notice the Phantom until later, we continued to make vows to each other. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime… say the word and I will follow you… Share each day with me, each night, each morning…" We whispered, eyes bright.

This fueled the Phantom with even more anger. " You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you...!"

When I heard his voice, I almost stopped. He existed?! I continued to run. I was the one in denial. Foolish of me never to have seen it before. I rushed Christine. Was there more I didn't know?

After Christine completed the rest of the opera in Carlotta's place, the Chandelier began to wobble again as the Phantom laughed. It descended and fell at Christine's feet. 

"Go!" And that was the last we heard of him for six months, after which he returned stronger, smarter, and more hateful than before. 

It was the masked ball, the night he returned. None of us expected it. We all were having a spectacular time, dancing, making music with absurd instruments, and using the Phantom as our primary joke. In fact, both of the managers, Andre and Firmin, came dressed as the ghost. 

That was also the day I proposed to Christine. She admired the ring and attached it to her gold necklace. Then she kissed me. With all the times we've done so, I never forgot the first time. 

"Think of it," Christine whispered happily. "A secret engagement! Look- your future bride! Just think of it!"

My face fell as I took her hand for the dance. "But why is it a secret? What do we have to hide?"

"Please, let's not fight…" Christine turned her head, the happiness nearly melted all way.

"Christine, you're free," I reminded her. She still didn't meet my eyes. 

"Wait till the time is right…" she asked as I spun her. When she returned into my arms, I objected again.

"When will that be?" I snarled. "It's an engagement, not a crime! Christine, what are you afraid of?" 

"Let's not argue…" she smiled and touched my face with a fingertip. I bit my lip. All she had to do was act innocent and I would do her whims. I loved her that much. And what comes of that kind of love is a certain degree of blindness.

"Let's not argue…" I agreed and she smiled again. "I only hope I'll understand in time."

"You will," she promised and kissed me on the cheek. 

Then, the crowd began to hush and pointed behind us. Some shrieked. We turned and saw the, the, _thing_ I never wanted to see again. Ever. It was the Phantom, walking down the stairs calmly until he reached the center of the room. Then, underneath his mask, he smirked.

"Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think I left you for good?" he demanded, laughing. His voice was indeed beautiful, but I found it just as comforting as nails on a blackboard. "Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera!" he reached deep into his cape and pulled out an enormous book. "Here I bring the finished score of '_Don Juan's Triumphant'_!" he threw it to Andre. "I advise you to comply- my instructions should be clear- Remember, there are worse things than a shattered chandelier." 

He stared right at where Christine and I stood. His eyes burned through me and I shuddered. 

"Christine, come with me," I ordered, but she had frozen in place. I gulped and took a side glance at the Phantom. He beckoned her. I grabbed her wrist but she slipped from my hand easily and went to him.

He reached out and seized her necklace. With one violent tug, he ripped it from her throat. "Your chains are still mine- you will sing for me!" Then his figure evaporated. 

With him gone, Christine fainted. I rushed to her side and carried her out of the ball into her room. Something must be done with the Phantom, or he would continue to haunt her for the rest of her life. The answer was there, in front of my face, but I did not see it.

After I set Christine in her bed, I gave her one kiss on the forehead and opened the door to return to the ball. Being the theatre's patron, my presence was required. On my way out, I bumped into Madam Giry. She looked at me frightened and tried to run away. But, I ran after her until I cornered her.

"Monsieur, don't ask me- I know no more than anyone else," Giry whispered, her eyes wide. She stepped to the side and attempted another escape, but I blocked her again.

"That's not true," I insisted. "You've seen something, haven't you?"

"I don't know what I've seen… Please don't ask me," Giry avoided the question uneasily.

"Madam," I begged desperately. "For all our sakes!"

She glanced nervously about her and then looked into my eyes. She must have seen something in my gaze which convinced her to confide in me. "Very well. It was years ago. There was a traveling fair in the city. Tumblers, conjurors, human oddities…"

"Go on," I urged her.

"And there it was…" she murmured. "I shall never forget him: a man, locked in a cage…"

"A _cage_?" I interrupted, shocked. A cage? What did that have to do with anything?

"A prodigy, Monsieur! Scholar, architect, musician…"

"A composer…" I added, piecing the clues together like a jigsaw puzzle. I was just missing one part.

"And an inventor, too, Monsieur. They boasted he had once built for the Shah of Persia, a maze of mirrors…"

"Who _was _this man?" I asked, growing impatient.

She shuddered severely. "A freak of nature…more monster than man…"

"Deformed?" I questioned her.

"From birth, it seemed…"

"My God…"

"And then… he went missing," she finished. "He escaped."

"Go on."

"They never found him- it was said he had died."

"But he didn't die," I muttered darkly. "Did he?" 

"The world forgot him, but I never can… For in this darkness I have seen him again."

"And so our Phantom's this man…" I concluded.

"I have said too much, Monsieur," she declared anxiously and took a few steps around me. "There have been too many accidents."

"Accidents?!" I asked her ironical.

"Too many…" and then she fled, leaving me with even more to think about and even more holes in the story than before this interview.

A couple days later, we (Carlotta, Piangi, Christine, and I) entered the managers' office.

"Ludicrous! Have you seen the score?" demanded Andre, flipping through the manuscript the Phantom had left.

"Simply ludicrous!" agreed Firmin.

"It's the final straw!" Andre muttered.

"But we daren't refuse…" Firmin cautioned.

"Not another chandelier," Andre groaned.

"Even more demands! New musicians that fit his liking, new chorus members that have a 'sense of pitch', what more?" Firmin held up two notes, both signed with the name, O.G.

By this time, Carlotta got sick of being silent. Knowing her, she was probably waiting for the precise moment to turn the conversation towards her.

"Outrage!"

"What is it now?" asked Firmin, clearly annoyed at her outburst.

"This whole affair is an outrage!"

"Signora, please…"

"Now what's a matter?" Andre sighed, his eyes too tired to look at her. Before his job in the opera, his face was young, alive. Now after what had happened so far, lines scarred his face deeply and his hair was streaked with grey.

"Have you seen the size of my part?" she questioned the mangers, again, thinking of herself.

"Signora, listen…" 

"It's an insult!" settled Piangi.

"Not you as well!" Firmin moaned.

"Just look at this! It's as insult!"

"Please understand!"

Christine and I looked at each other. We waited until one of us was called to the conversation before entering.

"The things I have to do for my art!" Carlotta took a deep breath dramatically. She constantly forgets she isn't on stage. Or perhaps, life was a stage to Carlotta.

"If you can call this gibberish art!" Piangi stabbed his finger in the direction of the open book on the desk.

Carlotta finally realized her arch enemy was in the same room as her.

"Ah!Here's our little flower!" she spat out venomously.

"You have the largest part in this '_Don Juan_'," Andre informed Christine.

"She doesn't have the voice!" Carlotta turned green with envy.

"Signora, please!" Firmin scolded her. 

"_She's_ the one behind this! Christine Daae!" she pointed a finger accusingly at woman beside me. I felt Christine tense up. Now she was mad.

"How dare you?" commanded Christine walked up to the ex prima donna and almost slapped her.

"I'm not a fool!"

"You evil woman! How dare you!"

"You think I'm blind?" inquired Carlotta sarcastically.

"This isn't _my_ fault!" claimed Christine. "I don't want any part in this plot!"

"Miss Daae," Firmin was shocked. "Surely…"

"But why not?" Andre cut in.

"What does she say?" Piangi asked Carlotta baffled.

"It's your decision," Firmin told her reasonably. "But why not?"

"She's backing out!" Carlotta informed the man.

"You have a duty!" Andre reminded Christine.

"I cannot sing it, duty or not!" she yelled hotly.

"Christine, Christine, you don't have to. They can't make you," I comforted her, rubbing her shoulders in support.

A moment later, the door opened. Everyone turned and saw Madam Giry with Meg in the entrance. 

"Please, Monsieur: another note," she bowed her head in respect. Everyone groaned and Giry began to read:

__

Fondest greetings to you all!

A few instructions, just before rehearsal starts:

Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting round the stage.

Our Don Juan must lose some weight- it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age.

And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts.

As for Miss Christine Daae, no doubt she'll do her best- it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher.

Your obedient friend and Angel,

O.G.

I almost snorted in his credits. Angel? He was truly crazy to believe that he was a part of heaven after all this, especially to believe that he was God's messenger. But I didn't. I knew now that the walls had ears and I would never be safe until he was dead and buried. As I thought of the irony, I stumbled across the answer to the problem.

"We have all been blind," I addressed the managers. "And yet the answer is staring us in the face… This could be our chance to ensnare our clever friend…"

"We're listening," Andre said, clearly talking for everyone.

"We shall play his game," I began slowly. "Perform his work- but remember we hold the ace." I gestured to Christine. "For, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend…"

"We make certain the doors are barred…" continued Andre.

"We make certain our men are there…" Firmin picked up after Andre.

"We make certain they're armed…" I added on. "The curtain falls, his reign will end!" I savored my victory. I found how to outwit the man behind the mask.

Everyone was quiet. Madame Giry was first to react, but my attention was to Christine. She was silent and withdrawn from the conversation and yet, I was doing this for her. Was there more I didn't know? I was afraid to ask.

"Madness!" declared Giry.

"I'm not so sure…" Andre said slowly.

"Not if it works!" Firmin pointed out.

"The tide will turn!" Andre stated confidently.

"Monsieur, believe me- there_ is_ no way of turning the tide!" Giry tried to convince the managers.

"You stick to ballet!" Firmin told her viciously.

"Then you help us!" I suggest to the Madam.

"Monsieur," Giry took a step back. "I can't…"

"Help us!" Andre and Firmin demanded in unison.

"I wish I could…" she took another step back.

"Don't make excuses!" Firmin slashed at her.

"Or could it be that you're on his side?" Andre inquired, his voice sharp. 

"Monsieur, believe me, I intend no ill… But be careful, we have seen him kill!"

"We say he'll fall, and fall he will!" 

"Angel of Music! Fear my fury- Here is where you fall!"

"Hear my warning! Fear his fury!" Giry begged.

"What glory can she hope to gain?" Carlotta stole the center stage right at the wrong time. "It's clear to all the girl is insane!" She gave Christine an icy glance.

"If Christine sings, we'll get our man…" Andre concluded to Firmin, ignoring Carlotta.

"She is crazy! She is raving!" Piangi agreed, as usual, with Carlotta.

"If Christine helps us in this plan…" Firmin continued where Andre left off.

Finally Christine spoke. "Please don't…" she asked, her large eyes wide. I stepped from her. I felt her pain, but if this is what it took to stop him, the pain was worth it.

"If Christine won't, then no one can…" Andre sustained the discussion between Firmin and himself, deaf to all that was around him.

"Monsieur, I beg you, do not do this," Giry exclaimed.

"This will seal his fate!" Firmin finished.

"If you don't stop, I'll go mad!!!" Christine held her head between her palms and yelled on the top of her opera lungs. All was quiet.

"Raoul, I'm frightened, don't make me do this… don't put me through this ordeal by fire…he'll take me…I know...we'll be parted for ever…he won't let me go…" Christine rocked back and forth and shouted out various things.

"She's mad…" Carlotta whispered shocked.

I ignored her. My main concern was for Christine. "You said yourself he was nothing more than a man… yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead…" I stroked her hand within mine with a thumb. 

"Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man, who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice? He kills without thought, he murders all that's good… I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could… Oh God- if I agree, what horrors wait for me in this, the Phantom's opera…?" she searched my eyes for answers.

"Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care- but every hope and every prayer rests on you now," I whispered tenderly. Was she willing to take the task? Christine looked at me, Carlotta, the managers, Piangi, peering at their solemn faces. Then she ran out of the room, weeping.

I pounded a wall with my clutched fist. "So it is to be war between us!" I called out to the Phantom I had grown to despise before I even knew he existed. "But this time, clever friend, the disaster will be yours!"

The next day was the first rehearsal for "_Don Juan Triumphant_" and everyone came to learn their parts. I had come to watch for any unexpected surprises. Piangi had a particularly hard time with the pitch the song required.

"'Those who _tangle _with Don Juan…' If you please?" Reyer instructed.

"'_Those who tangle with Don Juan!'"_ Piangi sang, his voice attempting the impossible melody. 

"No, no," Reyer stopped playing the piano and put his fingertips to his temples. "Nearly- but no. 'Those who _tan, tan,_ _tan_…' Again." He banged the keys for each _tan_.

"'_Those who tangle with Don Juan…_'" Piangi made an effort but was still off.

"His way is better. At least he make it sound like music!" Carlotta argued, against everything that the play she had a small part in involved. Shouts of agreement and laughter rang through out the stage.

"Signora- would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?" Giry shouted, her eyes projecting her anger, not her fear.

"The composer is not here. And if he _were_ here, I would…" Carlotta began but Giry covered her mouth.

"Are you certain of that, Signora?" she asked, daring the soprano to speak. Then Giry let go and left.

Reyer sighed and tried again.

"So once more- after seven. Five, six, seven…"

"'_Those who tangle with Don Juan_…'" Piangi sung another time, but was still on an incorrect quality of sound.

By then, the rehearsal was over. Everyone began to sing the phase mockingly and laugh at each other's crack at the line. Through all the commotion, the Phantom appeared from behind a prop and called out to Christine who was trying to help Piangi.

"Wandering child… so lost… so helpless…yearning for my guidance…" he whispered, weaving a spell of harmony to entrance her to him.

Christine turned, sensing the presence of the dark seducer she had vowed never again to be captivated by his ways and murmured to herself, caught in his gaze. "Angel… or father… friend…or Phantom? Who is it there, staring…?" 

"Have you forgotten your Angel?" the Phantom's voice was hypnotic to her ears.

"Angel…oh, speak… What endless longings echo in this whisper?" Christine stood up from her seat, half under his enchantment. 

I was watching the mob, but something caught my eye on the side of the set. It was then that I saw the Phantom. I shifted in my chair and saw Christine, her eyes fixed on her Angel.

"Once again she is his…" I moaned to myself, my heart aching.

"Too long you wandered in winter, far from my far- reaching gaze…" the Phantom spoke, echoes reaching only the most innocent of ears. Meg moved her head ninety degrees and spotted the Phantom as well. She shrank back in terror.

"Once again she returns…" I mutter, getting up. What was it about this deformed carcass that fascinated her so? Was he tempting her to the very depths of hell in which he is captive in order to set himself free? Why her? Why him?

"Wildly my mind beats against you…" Christine walked toward him, her body in a trance that could always be called upon as long as he lived.

"Yet your soul obeys…" he commented.

"…to the arms of her angel… angel or demon… still he calls to her… luring her back… from the grave…Who are you strange angel…?" I asked, but my question was left unheard.

"Angel of Music! You denied me, turning from true beauty… Angel of Music! Do not shun me… Come to your strange Angel…" the Phantom continued to draw her in, like a fish on the hook

"Angel of Music! I denied you, turning from true beauty… Angel of Music! My protector… Come to me, strange Angel…" Christine repeated, walking steadily to him.

"I am your Angel of Music… Come to me: Angel of Music…" 

"Angel of Music!" I called out, trying to catch her attention, but she was too deep in the spell to hear me. So I tried a different approach. Catching his attention. "Cease this torment!" But he was just as unwavering as Christine.

"I am your Angel of Music…Come to me: Angel of Music…" he shouted.

"Christine! Christine, listen to me! Whatever, you may believe, this man… this thing… is _not_ your father!" I yelled, desperately attempting to drown out the Phantom's callings with my voice.

Again, I failed. This time, I addressed him. "Let her go! For God's sake, _let her go!_ Christine!" Finally, she stopped and turned in my direction. 

"Raoul," she mouthed and then she ran to me and embraced my body as I did her. I would not let her go. Not now, not ever. Apparently, the Phantom was not very pleased. He seized a pike which was attached to the prop and pulled it. The prop opened and shot out a fire ball. It landed at my feet. Immediately, the cast and crew realized what was happening and emptied out of the theatre in fear and terror.

"Bravo, Monsieur! Such spirited words!" he praised sarcastically and let out another fire ball which I dodged. 

"More tricks, Monsieur?" I demanded, holding Christine tightly.

"Let's see Monsieur, how far you dare go!" the Phantom challenged, releasing flames.

I dodged again. "More deception? More violence?"

"Raoul, no…" Christine pulled me back, but I continued to walk toward him. Fire balls were let out constantly but I was lucky enough to dodge every one of them.

"That's right, that's right, Monsieur-, keep walking this way!" He dared me. As a gentleman of honor and pride, I did as he said.

"You can't win her love by making her your prisoner," I told him but listen he did not.

"Raoul, don't…" Christine pleaded, but I paid her no mind. I had to do this. For her sake. For our sake.

"Stay back!" I ordered.

"I'm here, I'm here, Monsieur, the Angel of Death! Come on, come on, Monsieur. Don't stop! Don't stop!" he taunted me.

I was almost at the Phantom's feet when Christine rushed to me, pulling on my arm. 

"Raoul, come back…"she lead me off stage. 

"Don't go!" the Phantom demanded in fury. But we left him in the theatre, alone. Though he was far from us, we heard his threat quite clearly.

"So be it! Now let it be war upon you _both_!" 

It was finally the day of the premiere and we haven't seen or heard from the Phantom since the first rehearsal. But, we all knew that he would attend the opera and take her. So the managers and I set up Firemen around the theatre before the premiere began, blocking all exits and entrances. One thing we forgot was that this Phantom does not use the door.

"Are we doing the right thing, Andre?" Firmin eyed the security guards with their loaded pistols. 

"Have you a better idea?" 

"Monsieur le Vicomte, are you confident that this will work?" Firmin turned to me now.

"Don't worry. Andre?" I asked, waiting for an opinion.

"We're in your hands," he concluded after a long pause. I nodded in reply. I really hoped this would succeed. Somehow I knew if it didn't, all would be lost. Then we could never try to banish him again.

"My men are now in position, sir," the Chief informed me

"Go ahead, then." 

"Are the doors secure?" the Chief shouted out to the auditorium.

All the doors slammed close one by one. After each slam, we heard a fireman calling out the word _Secure _to the Chief. Then, quietly, the voice of the Phantom yelled out. "I'm here: The Phantom of the Opera…"

Everyone turned around; searching for the repulsive body the voice belonged to. Firmin ran to approximate direction of the sound, but then the voice called out again, from a different part of the theatre. The firemen darted to that direction. Again the Phantom outwitted them and went somewhere else. This happened several times until the voice shouted from Box Five. The marksman that I set up in a pit to assassinate the Phantom if it appeared in the Box fired in confusion.

I rounded upon him furiously. "Idiot! You'll kill someone. I said: only when the time comes!"

The marksmen looked at me bewildered, searching for an excuse. "But, Monsieur le Vicomte…" he sputtered.

"No 'buts'! For once Monsieur le Vicomte is right…" the Phantom mocked me. "Seal my fate tonight- I hate to have cut this fun short, but the joke's wearing thin… Let the audience in… Let my opera begin!" Then he vanished.

"Indeed we will," I muttered. Then, to the men, I yelled, "Clean it up! Don't wait around all day. You saw how he outwitted you! I want you to go over the procedures until they are memorized. Get to work!" I sighed and sat down on a chair. This was too much. I just hoped everything would be ready by the premiere. 

The opera began well but I was still on high alert. Things began to go strangely when Don Juan (Piangi) who was supposed to appear dressed as Passarino with his face hidden to tempt Aminta (Christine) was delayed. The crowd waited and waited until he walked on stage. They clapped, like it was part of the show. But it wasn't. I clapped with the rest of them but kept my eyes peeled. That's when I noticed that Piangi had a different air about him. More arrogant, darker… sinister. I was confused. There was no way that Piangi could go from walking to gliding as if he was born to the Don Juan throne. 

__

"I have brought you,

That our passions may fuse and merge-

In your mind you've already succumbed to me, 

Dropped all defenses,

Completely succumbed to me-

Now you are here with me:

No second thoughts,

You've decided…decided," Piangi sang. It was very good, but not Piangi's style. Not all.

__

"I have come here,

Hardly knowing the reason why…

In my mind,

I've already imagined our bodies entwining,

Defenseless and silent-

And now I am here with you:

No second thoughts,

I've decided...decided" Christine sang in reply, but her eyes were fearful and glazed. She only looked that way in the presence of… my heart pounded so hard that I was afraid it would burst from my chest. It couldn't be. 

__

"Say you'll share with me one love,

One lifetime…

Lead me,

Save me from my solitude…" That was when I knew it wasn't Piangi. That verse was not in the script. It was the vow Christine and I made to each other the night we expressed our love to one another on the roof. And there was only one other person who heard us. 

"Christine!" I shouted devastated. 

__

"Say you want me with you,

Beside you…

Anywhere you go let me go too-

Christine,

That's all I'll ask of you!" The Phantom continued, and placed a ring on her finger. My finger. I stood up in protest. 

Christine, mesmerized, unmasked him to the audience. I would never forget that sight. Never. The face of the supposed angel was nothing more than a corpse under a mask. The crowd shrieked and all tried to run from the theatre at once. Security guards forced themselves through the frantic mob to reach the stage. By then, the Phantom wrapped a cloak around Christine and himself and they both disappeared. Meg ran to where they were standing and opened the curtain to reveal Piangi, his garroted body plopped against prop, his head gruesomely tilted to one side. She let out a blood chilling shriek that was heard to the managers' box, even through all the commotion. Andre and Firmin ran to the stage and arrived at the same time I did. When they saw what the Phantom did, they began to ramble.

"Oh my God…my God…" Andre sputtered, his eyes wide open.

Carlotta followed the managers to the stage, to complain about something else probably, but whatever she was going to say she forgot at the sight of her love. She crouched down and started to yell frantically.

"Ubaldo? Oh my darling, my darling…who has done this…?"

"We're ruined, Andre- ruined!" Firmin exclaimed.

"Monsieur le Vicomte! Come with me!" Giry appeared out of no where and grabbed my arm.

"Why did you let this happen?" Carlotta grabbed Andre's collar and shook him by the neck. As the police took the body, she wailed and broke down to the floor, her eyes rimmed a bloodshot red. For the first time and last time in my life, I related to the weeping soprano. She had cried for the sake of love, not for herself. From that point on, when Carlotta said something incredibly irritable or self absorbed, I knew that there was a heart there and gave her the appropriate respect. But at that time, I was not there for her. I was too busy trying to save my love from a similar fate.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I know where they are," Giry repeated.

"But can I trust you?" I asked her honestly.

"You must. But remember: your hand at the level of your eyes!" 

"But why…" 

"Why? The Punjab lasso, Monsieur. First Buquet. Now Piangi!" she explained the weapon used on both of them. A rope from a state between Pakistan and India.

Meg held up her hand, "Like this Monsieur. I'll come with you."

"No Meg! No, you stay here!" Giry exclaimed. Her daughter looked put out but was obedient. To me, she continued. "Come with me Monsieur. Hurry, or we shall be too late…" she ran off stage and guided under the theatre. 

At the same time, the Phantom was propelling the boat onwards to cross the water and enter his chambers which lay on the other side.

"Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" He turns to Christine, shouting bitterly. "Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!"

A sound has caught to his attention. The chant of a pursuing mob. "Track down this murderer he must be found!" 

The Phantom ignored them and returned to his expression of anger to Christine. 

"Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere! No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere!" he turned to, his eyes pleading, "Christine, Christine…Why…why…?" 

She looked else where and avoided his face.

After a great deal of running down the slope underground, we reached a lake. 

"He lives across the lake, Monsieur. This as far as I go," she stayed a second to search my face, perhaps thinking she would never see me again. I held her hand with both of mine.

"Madame Giry, thank you." I let go and she fled back up the slope as I took off my jacket and dived into the murky depths. As I swam across, I heard the mob approaching, their cries fueled me to go faster.

"Track down this murderer- he must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to the ground! Too long he's preyed on us- but now we know: the Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below. He's here: the Phantom of the Opera!"

The Phantom had finally reached his destination and dragged her out of the boat. She freed herself and backed away in terror masked as bravery.

"Have you gorged yourself at last, for your lust for blood?" she demanded, but received no reply. So she continued. "Am I now to be prey to your lust of flesh?"

The Phantom stared at her coldly and replied in a dignified manner, "That fate, which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of the flesh… this face- the infection which poisons our love," he opened a closet and retrieved a veil. Then he moved slowly to her. "This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing… A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing…" he gently set the veil on her head. "Pity comes too late- turn around and face your fate: an eternity of this before your eyes!" he snarled at her, their noses only inches apart. Christine looked calmly into his face.

"This haunted face, holds no horror for me now… It's in your soul that the true distortion lies…"

The Phantom said nothing but then smiled wickedly. "Wait! I think my dear, we have a guest!" He sensed my presence. He waited for me to arrive and then he greeted me. "Sir this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come. And now, my wish comes true- you have truly made my night!" 

I shook the bars that separated us. "Free her! Do what you like only free her! Have you no pity?" I whimpered.

"Your lover makes a passionate plea!" the Phantom commented dryly. 

"Please Raoul, it's useless…" she sobbed.

I ignored her foolish request. "I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion…" I begged him to do the impossible.

"The world showed no compassion to me!" he snarled at me, his face twisted in anger, more deformed than usual.

"Christine… Christine… Let me see her…" I ordered.

"Be my guest, sir…" he gestured for her to come out of the shadows. She sprinted to me, long streaks across her face, her clothing torn and hair in disarray. I smoothed what I could through the bars and she held my palm between her two rough hands.

The Phantom opened the gate and let me in. Christine threw herself at me and I caught her in a sweet embrace.

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her? Why should I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" 

Before I had a chance to move, he swung the Punjab lasso and caught me by the neck, like cattle. The Phantom let go of the end of the rope and it magically suspended in mid- air. I struggled and struggled but could not free myself.

"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now- except for perhaps Christine…" he turned to her after mocking me and yelled to her in a voice like a sorrowful nightingale, "Start a new life with me- Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and send your lover to his death! This is the choice- This is the point of no return!"

"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold, and turn to tears of hate!" she cried and fell to the floor.

"Christine, forgive me, please forgive me… I did it all for you, and for nothing!" I begged in despair.

"Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend…" Christine murmured to herself, watching his caped shadow.

"Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!" the Phantom boomed with an edge that cut through the blackness within the silence. 

"Say you love him, and my life is over!" I moaned, tears falling for my other half. I rather die than hear those words tumble out of her lips. I rather be burned in hell for all eternity than witness my point in being enter the clutches of an undead. "Either way you choose him!" 

"Either way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me, or send him to his grave?"

"Why make her lie to you, to save me?" I demanded. The Phantom would win either way. This was the point of no return, for Christine or for me, which choice will she make? "For pity's sake, Christine, say no, don't throw your life away for me!" 

"His life is now a prize which you must earn!" he roared, making a series of violent moves.

"I've fought so hard to free you! Don't let it go in vain!" I beseeched her. If her freedom was what I was going to die for, I would die a completed man.

"You try my patience!" the Phantom tightened his jaw. "Make your choice!"

Christine got up slowly and looked at the both of us. Her angel, a deformed fiend that wanted her to be his so much, he sold his soul to hell. And I, her protector, her other half, a man who would die happily for her love. As I look back on the past, I realize that the Phantom and I were more alike then I'd like to admit. Both of us cursed with the love of one woman. Both of us intrigued by the sound of her voice. Both of us willing to sell our souls to hell for her. For that, I show him pity.

I cannot help but think, though, if the Phantom was not deformed, would the story have been different? Or if I was the deformed one? Would she still love me and fear him? But, the important thing to remember is that I can if all I want, it wouldn't change anything. Everything is the way it is for a reason and the way it is, is the way it's suppose to be.

She expressed her choice with her eyes. They were sad and wide. One beautiful crystal tear ran down her cheek. She went to him.

"Pitiful creature of darkness… What kind of life have you known…? God give me courage to show you that you are not alone!" she held his face with gentle fingers and kissed him passionately on the lips. 

Another tear fell for her. But they were his not mine. He was crying. He was crying for the only thing he had ever loved. His mother never kissed him. No one did. And now, he was dying from her love. He touched her stained cheek with one gloved finger. He knew that the true expression of his love would be to set her free. And that was what he did. 

"Take her- forget me- forget all of this," the Phantom made the rope descend to ground level in which he untied me. "Leave me alone, forget all you've seen…"

In the back round, we heard the mob approaching. 

"Who is this monster, this murdering beast? Revenge for Piangi! Revenge for Buquet! This creature must never go free!"

He hurried us. "Go now- don't let them find you! Take the boat- leave me here- go now, don't wait… Just take her and go- before it's too late…GO…GO NOW AND LEAVE ME!" without being told twice, I pulled Christine and rushed her out of the chamber. It was then that I heard the music box. It began to play mysteriously as we ran. Midway to the boat, Christine ran back.

"Christine!" I shouted.

"I must return this to him!"

She entered back into the room were she saw the Phantom, sitting on his bench along side his organ. She removed the ring from her finger and gave it back to him.

"Christine, I love you…" he murmured gently to her, still crying.

She looked upon him for the last time, and darted back to the boat. As we sailed, I repeated our vows.

"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime… say the word and I will follow you…"

"Share each day with me…" she continued.

"…each night…" I replied and held her hand as we said in unison, "…each morning…"

Through the walls, we heard the Phantom's last goodbye to Christine. "You alone, can make my song take flight- it's over now, the music of the night!"

The mob eventually came to his lair, Meg along with them, and she told us afterward, that it was all empty, except for his mask. 

That is the story. The story I promised to tell you. No more. No less. What has happened since, what became of him, what became of us, what happened to the theatre. You may guess from there. One thing I will tell you though is that they say he still haunts the theatre to this day, perhaps waiting for Christine to return, or carry out his curse on the opera itself. Maybe you can go to the theatre in Paris and unmask the truth, or maybe you are contented with what I have told you. Either way, I know no more about the Phantom of the Opera. I have told you all I know. And that is the end. 


End file.
